For a time the Master of the Earth was not even master of his own mind. Even his will seemed a will not his own, his own acts surprised him and were but a part of the confusion of strange experiences that poured across his being. These things were definite, the aeroplanes were coming, Helen Wotton had warned the people of their coming, and he was Master of the Earth. Each of these facts seemed struggling for complete possession of his thoughts. They protruded1 from a background of swarming2 halls, elevated passages, rooms jammed with ward3 leaders in council kinematograph and telephone rooms, and windows looking out on a seething4 sea of marching men. The man in yellow, and men whom he fancied were called Ward Leaders, were either propelling him forward or following him obediently; it was hard to tell. Perhaps they were doing a little of both. Perhaps some power unseen and unsuspected, propelled them all. He was aware that he was going to make a proclamation to the People of the Earth, aware of certain grandiose5 phrases floating in his mind as the thing he meant to say. Many little things happened, and then he found himself with the man in yellow entering a little room where this proclamation of his was to be made.
This room was grotesquely6 latter-day in its appointments. In the centre was a bright oval lit by shaded electric lights from above. The rest was in shadow, and the double finely fitting doors through which he came from the swarming Hall of the Atlas8 made the place very still. The dead thud of these as they closed behind him, the sudden cessation of the tumult9 in which he had been living for hours, the quivering circle of light, the whispers and quick noiseless movements of vaguely10 visible attendants in the shadows, had a strange effect upon Graham. The huge ears of a phonographic mechanism11 gaped12 in a battery for his words, the black eyes of great photographic cameras awaited his beginning, beyond metal rods and coils glittered dimly, and something whirled about with a droning hum. He walked into the centre of the light, and his shadow drew together black and sharp to a little blot13 at his feet.
The vague shape of the thing he meant to say was already in his mind. But this silence, this isolation14, the sudden withdrawal15 from that contagious16 crowd, this silent audience of gaping17, glaring machines had not been in his anticipation18. All his supports seemed withdrawn19 together; he seemed to have dropped into this suddenly, suddenly to have discovered himself. In a moment he was changed. He found that he now feared to be inadequate20, he feared to be theatrical21, he feared the quality of his voice, the quality of his wit, astonished, he turned to the man in yellow with a propitiatory22 gesture. "For a moment," he said, "I must wait. I did not think it would be like this. I must think of the thing I have to say."
While he was still hesitating there came an agitated23 messenger with news that the foremost aeroplanes were passing over Arawan.
"Arawan?" he said. "Where is that? But anyhow, they are coming. They will be here. When?"
"Great God! In only a few hours. What news of the flying stages?" he asked.
"The people of the south-west wards25 are ready."
"Ready!"
He turned impatiently to the blank circles of the lenses again.
"I suppose it must be a sort of speech. Would to God I knew certainly the thing that should be said! Aeroplanes at Arawan! They must have started before the main fleet. And the people only ready! Surely..."
"Oh! what does it matter whether I speak well or ill?" he said, and felt the light grow brighter.
He had framed some vague sentence of democratic sentiment when suddenly doubts overwhelmed him. His belief in his heroic quality and calling he found had altogether lost its assured conviction. The picture of a little strutting26 futility27 in a windy waste of incomprehensible destinies replaced it. Abruptly29 it was perfectly30 clear to him that this revolt against Ostrog was premature31, foredoomed to failure, the impulse of passionate33 inadequacy34 against inevitable35 things. He thought of that swift flight of aeroplanes like the swoop36 of Fate towards him. He was astonished that he could have seen things in any other light. In that final emergency he debated, thrust debate resolutely38 aside, determined39 at all costs to go through with the thing he had undertaken. And he could find no word to begin. Even as he stood, awkward, hesitating, with an indiscrete apology for his inability trembling on his lips, came the noise of many people crying out, the running to and fro of feet. "Wait," cried someone, and a door opened. "She is coming," said the voices. Graham turned, and the watching lights waned40.
Through the open doorway41 he saw a slight grey figure advancing across a spacious42 hall. His heart leapt. It was Helen Wotton. Behind and about her marched a riot of applause. The man in yellow came out of the nearer shadows into the circle of light.
"This is the girl who told us what Ostrog had dune," he said.
Her face was aflame, and the heavy coils of her black hair fell about her shoulders. The folds of the soft silk robe she wore streamed from her and floated in the rhythm of her advance. She drew nearer and nearer, and his heart was beating fast. All his doubts were gone. The shadow of the doorway fell athwart her face and she was near him. "You have not betrayed us?" she cried. "You are with us?"
"Where have you been?" said Graham.
"At the office of the south-west wards. Until ten minutes since I did not know you had returned. I went to the office of the south-west wards to find the Ward Leaders in order that they might tell the people."
"I came back so soon as I heard--."
"I knew," she cried, "knew you would be with us. And it was I--it was I that told them. They have risen. All the world is rising. The people have awakened43. Thank God that I did not act in vain! You are Master still."
"You told them" he said slowly, and he saw that in spite of her steady eyes her lips trembled and her throat rose and fell.
"I told them. I knew of the order. I was here. I heard that the negroes were to come to London to guard you and to keep the people down--to keep you a prisoner. And I stopped it. I came out and told the people. And you are Master still."
Graham glanced at the black lenses of the cameras, the vast listening ears, and back to her face. "I am Master still," he said slowly, and the swift rush of a fleet of aeroplanes passed across his thoughts.
"And you did this? You, who are the niece of Ostrog."
"For you," she cried. "For you! That you for whom the world has waited should not be cheated of your power."
Graham stood for a space, wordless, regarding her. His doubts and questionings had fled before her presence. He remembered the things that he had meant to say. He faced the cameras again and the light about him grew brighter. He turned again towards her.
"You have saved me," he said; "you have saved my power. And the battle is beginning. God knows what this night will see--but not dishonour44."
He paused. He addressed himself to the unseen multitudes who stared upon him through those grotesque7 black eyes. At first he spoke45 slowly. "Men and women of the new age," he said; "You have arisen to do battle for the race... There is no easy victory before us."
He stopped to gather words. The thoughts that had been in his mind before she came returned, but transfigured, no longer touched with the shadow of a possible irrelevance46. "This night is a beginning," he cried. "This battle that is coming, this battle that rushes upon us to-night, is only a beginning. All your lives, it may be, you must fight. Take no thought though I am beaten, though I am utterly47 overthrown48."
He found the thing in his mind too vague for words. He paused momentarily, and broke into vague exhortations49, and then a rush of speech came upon him. Much that he said was but the humanitarian50 commonplace of a vanished age, but the conviction of his voice touched it to vitality51. He stated the case of the old days to the people of the new age, to the woman at his side. "I come out of the past to you," he said, "with the memory of an age that hoped. My age was an age of dreams--of beginnings, an age of noble hopes; throughout the world we had made an end of slavery; throughout the world we had spread the desire and anticipation that wars might cease, that all men and women might live nobly, in freedom and peace. ... So we hoped in the days that are past. And what of those hopes? How is it with man after two hundred years?
"Great cities, vast powers, a collective greatness beyond our dreams. For that we did not work, and that has come. But how is it with the little lives that make up this greater life? How is it with the common lives? As it has ever been--sorrow and labour, lives cramped52 and unfulfilled, lives tempted53 by power, tempted by wealth, and gone to waste and folly54. The old faiths have faded and changed, the new faith--. Is there a new faith?"
Things that he had long wished to believe, he found that he believed. He plunged55 at belief and seized it, and clung for a time at her level. He spoke gustily56, in broken incomplete sentences, but with all his heart and strength, of this new faith within him. He spoke of the greatness of self-abnegation, of his belief in an immortal57 life of Humanity in which we live and move and have our being. His voice rose and fell, and the recording58 appliances hummed their hurried applause, dim attendants watched him out of the shadow. Through all those doubtful places his sense of that silent spectator beside him sustained his sincerity59. For a few glorious moments he was carried away; he felt no doubt of his heroic quality, no doubt of his heroic words, he had it all straight and plain. His eloquence60 limped no longer. And at last he made an end to speaking. "Here and now," he cried, "I make my will. All that is mine in the world I give to the people of the world. All that is mine in the world I give to the people of the world. I give it to you, and myself I give to you. And as God wills, I will live for you, or I will die."
He ended with a florid gesture and turned about. He found the light of his present exaltation reflected in the face of the girl. Their eyes met; her eyes were swimming with tears of enthusiasm. They seemed to be urged towards each other. They clasped hands and stood gripped, facing one another, in an eloquent61 silence. She whispered. "I knew," she whispered. "I knew." He could not speak, he crushed her hand in his. His mind was the theatre of gigantic passions.
The man in yellow was beside them. Neither had noted62 his coming. He was saying that the south-west wards were marching. "I never expected it so soon," he cried. "They have done wonders. You must send them a word to help them on their way."
Graham dropped Helen's hand and stared at him absent-mindedly. Then with a start he returned to his previous preoccupation about the flying stages.
"Yes," he said. "That is good, that is good." He weighed a message. "Tell them;--well done South West."
He turned his eyes to Helen Wotton again. His face expressed his struggle between conflicting ideas. "We must capture the flying stages," he explained. "Unless we can do that they will land negroes. At all costs we must prevent that."
He felt even as he spoke that this was not what had been in his mind before the interruption. He saw a touch of surprise in her eyes. She seemed about to speak and a shrill63 bell drowned her voice.
It occurred to Graham that she expected him to lead these marching people, that that was the thing he had to do. He made the offer abruptly. He addressed the man in yellow, but he spoke to her. He saw her face respond. "Here I am doing nothing," he said.
"It is impossible," protested the man in yellow.
"It is a fight in a warren. Your place is here."
He explained elaborately. He motioned towards the room where Graham must wait, he insisted no other course was possible. "We must know where you are," he said. "At any moment a crisis may arise needing your presence and decision." The room was a luxurious64 little apartment with news machines and a broken mirror that had once been en _rapport_ with the crow's nest specula. It seemed a matter of course to Graham that Helen should stop with him.
A picture had drifted through his mind of such a vast dramatic struggle as the masses in the ruins had suggested. But here was no spectacular battle-field such as he imagined. Instead was seclusion--and suspense65. It was only as the afternoon wore on that he pieced together a truer picture of the fight that was raging, inaudibly and invisibly, within four miles of him, beneath the Roehampton stage. A strange and unprecedented66 contest it was, a battle that was a hundred thousand little battles, a battle in a sponge of ways and channels, fought out of sight of sky or sun under the electric glare, fought out in a vast confusion by multitudes untrained in arms, led chiefly by acclamation, multitudes dulled by mindless labour and enervated67 by the tradition of two hundred years of servile security against multitudes demoralised by lives of venial68 privilege and sensual indulgence. They had no artillery69, no differentiation70 into this force or that; the only weapon on either side was the little green metal carbine, whose secret manufacture and sudden distribution in enormous quantities had been one of Ostrog's culminating moves against the Council. Few had had any experience with this weapon, many had never discharged one, many who carried it came unprovided with ammunition71; never was wilder firing in the history of warfare72. It was a battle of amateurs, a hideous73 experimental warfare, armed rioters fighting armed rioters, armed rioters swept forward by the words and fury of a song, by the tramping sympathy of their numbers, pouring in countless74 myriads75 towards the smaller ways, the disabled lifts, the galleries slippery with blood, the halls and passages choked with smoke, beneath the flying stages, to learn there when retreat was hopeless the ancient mysteries of warfare. And overhead save for a few sharpshooters upon the roof spaces and for a few bands and threads of vapour that multiplied and darkened towards the evening, the day was a clear serenity76. Ostrog it seems had no bombs at command and in all the earlier phases of the battle the aeropiles played no part. Not the smallest cloud was there to break the empty brilliance77 of the sky. It seemed as though it held itself vacant until the aeroplanes should come.
Ever and again there was news of these, drawing nearer, from this Mediterranean78 port and then that, and presently from the south of France. But of the new guns that Ostrog had made and which were known to be in the city came no news in spite of Graham's urgency, nor any report of successes from the dense79 felt of fighting strands80 about the flying stages. Section after section of the Labour Societies reported itself assembled, reported itself marching, and vanished from knowledge into the labyrinth81 of that warfare What was happening there? Even the busy ward leaders did not know. In spite of the opening and closing of doors, the hasty messengers, the ringing of bells and the perpetual clitter-clack of recording implements82, Graham felt isolated83, strangely inactive, inoperative.
Their isolation seemed at times the strangest, the most unexpected of all the things that had happened since his awakening84. It had something of the quality of that inactivity that comes in dreams. A tumult, the stupendous realisation of a world struggle between Ostrog and himself, and then this confined quiet little room with its mouthpieces and bells and broken mirror!
Now the door would be closed and they were alone together; they seemed sharply marked off then from all the unprecedented world storm that rushed together without, vividly85 aware of one another, only concerned with one another. Then the door would open again, messengers would enter, or a sharp bell would stab their quiet privacy, and it was like a window in a well built brightly lit house flung open suddenly to a hurricane. The dark hurry and tumult, the stress and vehemence86 of the battle rushed in and overwhelmed them. They were no longer persons but mere87 spectators, mere impressions of a tremendous convulsion. They became unreal even to themselves, miniatures of personality, indescribably small, and the two antagonistic88 realities, the only realities in being were first the city, that throbbed89 and roared yonder in a belated frenzy90 of defence and secondly91 the aeroplanes hurling92 inexorably towards them over the round shoulder of the world.
At first their mood had been one of exalted93 confidence, a great pride had possessed94 them, a pride in one another for the greatness of the issues they had challenged. At first he had walked the room eloquent with a transitory persuasion95 of his tremendous destiny. But slowly uneasy intimations of their coming defeat touched his spirit. There came a long period in which they were alone. He changed his theme, became egotistical, spoke of the wonder of his sleep, of the little life of his memories, remote yet minute and clear, like something seen through an inverted96 opera-glass, and all the brief play of desires and errors that had made his former life. She said little, but the emotion in her face followed the tones in his voice, and it seemed to him he had at last a perfect understanding. He reverted97 from pure reminiscence to that sense of greatness she imposed upon him. "And through it all, this destiny was before me," he said; "this vast inheritance of which I did not dream."
Insensibly their heroic preoccupation with the revolutionary struggle passed to the question of their relationship. He began to question her. She told him of the days before his awakening, spoke with a brief vividness of the girlish dreams that had given a bias98 to her life, of the incredulous emotions his awakening had aroused. She told him too of a tragic99 circumstance of her girlhood that had darkened her life, quickened her sense of injustice100 and opened her heart prematurely101 to the wider sorrows of the world. For a little time, so far as he was concerned, the great war about them was but the vast ennobling background to these personal things.
In an instant these personal relations were submerged. There came messengers to tell that a great fleet of aeroplanes was rushing between the sky and Avignon. He went to the crystal dial in the corner and assured himself that the thing was so. He went to the chart room and consulted a map to measure the distances of Avignon, New Arawan, and London. He made swift calculations. He went to the room of the Ward Leaders to ask for news of the fight for the stages--and there was no one there. After a time he came back to her.
His face had changed. It had dawned upon him that the struggle was perhaps more than half over, that Ostrog was holding his own, that the arrival of the aeroplanes would mean a panic that might leave him helpless. A chance phrase in the message had given him a glimpse of the reality that came. Each of these soaring giants bore its thousand half savage102 negroes to the death grapple of the city. Suddenly his humanitarian enthusiasm showed flimsy. Only two of the Ward Leaders were in their room, when presently he repaired thither103, the Hall of the Atlas seemed empty. He fancied a change in the bearing of the attendants in the outer rooms. A sombre disillusionment darkened his mind. She looked at him anxiously when he returned to her.
"No news," he said with an assumed carelessness in answer to her eyes.
Then he was moved to frankness. "Or rather--bad news. We are losing. We are gaining no ground and the aeroplanes draw nearer and nearer."
He walked the length of the room and turned.
"Unless we can capture those flying stages in the next hour--there will be horrible things. We shall be beaten.
"No!" she said. "We have justice--we have the people. We have God on our side."
"Ostrog has discipline--he has plans. Do you know, out there just now I felt--. When I heard that these aeroplanes were a stage nearer. I felt as if I were fighting the machinery104 of fate."
She made no answer for a while. "We have done right," she said at last.
He looked at her doubtfully. "We have done what we could. But does this depend upon us? Is it not an older sin, a wider sin?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"These blacks are savages105, ruled by force, used as force. And they have been under the rule of the whites two hundred years. Is it not a race quarrel? The race sinned--the race pays."
"But these labourers, these poor people of London--!"
"Vicarious atonement. To stand wrong is to share the guilt106."
She looked keenly at him, astonished at the new aspect he presented.
Without came the shrill ringing of a bell, the sound of feet and the gabble of a phonographic message. The man in yellow appeared. "Yes?" said Graham.
"They are at Vichy."
"Where are the attendants who were in the great Hall of the Atlas?" asked Graham abruptly.
Presently the Babble107 Machine rang again. "We may win yet," said the man in yellow, going out to it. "If only we can find where Ostrog has hidden his guns. Everything hangs on that now. Perhaps this--"
Graham followed him. But the only news was of the aeroplanes. They had reached Orleans.
Graham returned to Helen. "No news," he said "No news."
"And we can do nothing?"
"Nothing."
He paced impatiently. Suddenly the swift anger that was his nature swept upon him. "Curse this complex world!" he cried, "and all the inventions of men! That a man must die like a rat in a snare108 and never see his foe109! Oh, for one blow!..."
He turned with an abrupt28 change in his manner. "That's nonsense," he said. "I am a savage."
He paced and stopped. "After all London and Paris are only two cities. All the temperate110 zone has risen. What if London is doomed32 and Paris destroyed? These are but accidents." Again came the mockery of news to call him to fresh enquiries. He returned with a graver face and sat down beside her.
"The end must be near," he said. "The people it seems have fought and died in tens of thousands, the ways about Roehampton must be like a smoked beehive. And they have died in vain. They are still only at the sub stage. The aeroplanes are near Paris. Even were a gleam of success to come now, there would be nothing to do, there would be no time to do anything before they were upon us. The guns that might have saved us are mislaid. Mislaid! Think of the disorder111 of things! Think of this foolish tumult, that cannot even find its weapons! Oh, for one aeropile--just one! For the want of that I am beaten. Humanity is beaten and our cause is lost! My kingship, my headlong foolish kingship will not last a night. And I have egged on the people to fight--."
"They would have fought anyhow."
"I doubt it. I have come among them--"
"No," she cried, "not that. If defeat comes--if you die--. But even that cannot be, it cannot be, after all these years."
"Ah! We have meant well. But--do you indeed believe--?"
"If they defeat you," she cried, "you have spoken. Your word has gone like a great wind through the world, fanning liberty into a flame. What if the flame sputters112 a little! Nothing can change the spoken word. Your message will have gone forth113...."
"To what end? It may be. It may be. You know I said, when you told me of these things dear God! but that was scarcely a score of hours ago!--I said that I had not your faith. Well--at any rate there is nothing to do now...."
"You have not my faith! Do you mean--? You are sorry?"
"No," he said hurriedly, "no! Before God--no!" His voice changed. "But--. I think--I have been indiscreet. I knew little--I grasped too hastily...."
He paused. He was ashamed of this avowal114. "There is one thing that makes up for all. I have known you. Across this gulf115 of time I have come to you. The rest is done. It is done. With you, too, it has been something more--or something less--"
He paused with his face searching hers, and without clamoured the unheeded message that the aeroplanes were rising into the sky of Amiens.
She put her hand to her throat, and her lips were white. She stared before her as if she saw some horrible possibility. Suddenly her features changed. "Oh, but I have been honest!" she cried, and then, "Have I been honest? I loved the world and freedom, I hated cruelty and oppression. Surely it was that."
"Yes," he said, "yes. And we have done what it lay in us to do. We have given our message, our message! We have started Armageddon! But now--. Now that we have, it may be our last hour, together, now that all these greater things are done...."
He stopped. She sat in silence. Her face was a white riddle117.
For a moment they heeded116 nothing of a sudden stir outside, a running to and fro, and cries. Then Helen started to an attitude of tense attention. "It is--," she cried and stood up, speechless, incredulous, triumphant118. And Graham, too, heard. Metallic119 voices were shouting "Victory!" Yes it was "Victory!" He stood up also with the light of a desperate hope in his eyes.
Bursting through the curtains appeared the man in yellow, startled and dishevelled with excitement. "Victory," he cried, "victory! The people are winning. Ostrog's people have collapsed121."
She rose. "Victory?" And her voice was hoarse122 and faint.
"What do you mean?" asked Graham. "Tell me! What?"
"We have driven them out of the under galleries at Norwood, Streatham is afire and burning wildly, and Roehampton is ours. Ours!--and we have taken the aeropile that lay thereon."
For an instant Graham and Helen stood in silence, their hearts were beating fast, they looked at one another. For one last moment there gleamed in Graham his dream of empire, of kingship, with Helen by his side. It gleamed, and passed.
A shrill bell rang. An agitated grey-headed man appeared from the room of the Ward Leaders. "It is all over," he cried.
"What matters it now that we have Roehampton? The aeroplanes have been sighted at Boulogne!"
"The Channel!" said the man in yellow. He calculated swiftly. "Half an hour."
"They still have three of the flying stages," said the old man.
"Those guns?" cried Graham.
"We cannot mount them--in half an hour."
"Do you mean they are found?"
"Too late," said the old man.
"If we could stop them another hour!" cried the man in yellow.
"Nothing can stop them now," said the old man, "they have near a hundred aeroplanes in the first fleet."
"Another hour?" asked Graham.
"To be so near!" said the Ward Leader. "Now that we have found those guns. To be so near--. If once we could get them out upon the roof spaces."
"How long would that take?" asked Graham suddenly.
"An hour--certainly."
"Too late," cried the Ward Leader, "too late."
"Is it too late?" said Graham. "Even now--. An hour!"
He had suddenly perceived a possibility. He tried to speak calmly, but his face was white. "There is one chance. You said there was an aeropile--?"
"On the Roehampton stage, Sire."
"Smashed?"
"No. It is lying crossways to the carrier. It might be got upon the guides--easily. But there is no aeronaut--."
Graham glanced at the two men and then at Helen. He spoke after a long pause. "We have no aeronauts?"
"None."
"The aeroplanes are clumsy," he said thoughtfully, "compared with the aeropiles."
He turned suddenly to Helen. His decision was made. "I must do it."
"Do what?"
"Go to this flying stage--to this aeropile."
"What do you mean?"
"I am an aeronaut. After all--. Those days for which you reproached me were not wasted."
He turned to the old man in yellow. "Put the aeropile upon the guides."
The man in yellow hesitated.
"What do you mean to do?" cried Helen.
"This aeropile--it is a chance--."
"You don't mean--?"
"To fight--yes. To fight in the air. I have thought before--. An aeroplane is a clumsy thing. A resolute37 man--!"
"But--never since flying began--" cried the man in yellow.
"There has been no need. But now the time has come. Tell them now--send them my message--to put it upon the guides."
The old man dumbly interrogated123 the man in yellow, nodded, and hurried out.
Helen made a step towards Graham. Her face was white. "But--How can one fight? You will be killed."
"Perhaps. Yet, not to do it--or to let someone else attempt it--."
He stopped, he could speak no more, he swept the alternative aside by a gesture, and they stood looking at one another.
"You are right," she said at last in a low tone. "You are right. If it can be done... must go."
Those days for not altogether
He moved a step towards her, and she stepped back, her white face struggled against him and resisted him. "No," she gasped124. "I cannot bear--. Go now."
He extended his hands stupidly. She clenched125 her fists. "Go now," she cried. "Go now."
He hesitated and understood. He threw his hands up in a queer half-theatrical gesture. He had no word to say. He turned from her.
The man in yellow moved towards the door with clumsy belated tact126. But Graham stepped past him. He went striding through the room where the Ward Leader bawled127 at a telephone directing that the aeropile should be put upon the guides.
The man in yellow glanced at Helen's still figure, hesitated and hurried after him. Graham did not once look back, he did not speak until the curtain of the ante-chamber of the great hall fell behind him. Then he turned his head with curt120 swift directions upon his bloodless lips.
收听单词发音 |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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18
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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20
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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24
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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27
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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30
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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31
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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32
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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34
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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35
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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36
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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37
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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38
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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40
waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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41
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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42
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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43
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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44
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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45
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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46
irrelevance
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| n.无关紧要；不相关；不相关的事物 | |
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47
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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48
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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49
exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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50
humanitarian
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| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
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51
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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52
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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53
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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54
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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55
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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56
gustily
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| adv.暴风地，狂风地 | |
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57
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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58
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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59
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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60
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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61
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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62
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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63
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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64
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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65
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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66
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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67
enervated
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| adj.衰弱的，无力的v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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69
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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70
differentiation
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| n.区别，区分 | |
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71
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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72
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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73
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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74
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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75
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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76
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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77
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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78
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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79
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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80
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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82
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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83
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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84
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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85
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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86
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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87
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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88
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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89
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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90
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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91
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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92
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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93
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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94
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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95
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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96
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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98
bias
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| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
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99
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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100
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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101
prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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102
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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103
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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104
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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105
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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106
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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107
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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108
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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109
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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110
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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111
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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112
sputters
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| n.喷溅声( sputter的名词复数 )；劈啪声；急语；咕哝v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的第三人称单数 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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113
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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114
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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115
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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116
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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118
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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119
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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120
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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121
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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122
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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123
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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124
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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125
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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127
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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